


Moments that Matter

by ladyofbrileith



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Michael figuring himself out, Michael's POV, episode filler, missing scene sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-12 00:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18000632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofbrileith/pseuds/ladyofbrileith
Summary: After Alex almost kisses him, Michael has some reassessing to do. What he discovers surprises him and leads him somewhere new.





	Moments that Matter

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently, my Malex stuff, for a bit, is gonna be getting in Michael's head. Not that this is new for me, but it's what keeps being where these go, rather than spinning into new directions, yet.

The thing about moments, Michael thinks, is that sometimes they go in directions you don’t expect. Sometimes, they happen, and you look back and realize they’ve _been_ happening for a while, but you haven’t recognized them for what they are. Sometimes, they make you reassess a lot of things. Sometimes, they take you so much by surprise, you freeze. Sometimes, you need time to process them.

Sometimes, that means you miss them.

Alex leaning in, slow, almost hesitant, intent clear but unsure of Michael’s response, hit him like a flying saucer to the solar plexus. In retrospect, maybe he should’ve seen it coming, but, if he had, he worries he’d have seen it as something else, questioned Alex’s intentions. He’d come close, as it was, but Alex’s assurances that sometimes people were just nice to one another had seemed so sincere—naïve, sure, but sincere—and the question in the hesitation before the kiss-that-wasn’t-but-could’ve-been too clear—giving Michael a chance to back out—left him sure Alex had no ulterior motives. That Michael had found himself opening up, talking about his inner chaos, at all, had been weird enough. The certainty about the purity of Alex’s intentions was weirder. But it came in the processing afterward. Recognition beforehand might’ve ruined it, as surely as he worries now that his seeming rejection has done.

The more that he examines it, the more he realizes he really hadn’t been saying “no”; just “not yet,” but he’s pretty sure that’s not how it read to Alex. Alex, who’d gone out on a limb, taken a risk. Michael’s seen how other guys reacted to Alex—not just at prom, but in general. Trying to kiss Michael might’ve gone so wrong, and the bravery in the gesture takes Michael’s breath away.

In the moment, that gesture had made the chaos flare, made him retreat to his safety, made him try to say with the music what he couldn’t put into words, but he didn’t think Alex had read that right, either. How could he? There was so much they didn’t know about one another.

Michael wants to know. He wants to know what makes Alex smile; wants to know what Alex sounds like when he laughs; wants to know why _Alex_ plays music, what it does for him. He wants to know what Alex dreams about doing, as high school comes to an end, if Alex plans to leave Roswell, go to college, and where, and how Alex feels about Albuquerque. He wants to know what playing music _with_ Alex would feel and sound like.

He plays the moment over and over in his head and wants to know even more. If Alex’s lips are soft or rough. What Alex tastes like. What Alex _feels_ like, and how angles and hardness feel pressed close instead of softness and curves. He finds himself replaying every moment up to that one, reexamining the shape of Alex’s mouth in his mind’s eye, studying the width of his shoulders sitting in front of him in biology class.

Confused chaos rapidly shifts to curiosity, which shifts to obsessing, which makes standing up at the end of bio a little uncomfortable and has him darting out even as Max starts to ask him some question Michael doesn’t have enough blood flowing to his brain to answer. For the first time in a long time, items tremble around him without his intending it—thankfully only when he’s alone, but still. He has better control than that.

Maybe he shouldn’t go back to the shed to sleep until he has an answer, but it _is_ cold out, and maybe Alex will stop by and Michael can put some of this to rest. Instead, he finds himself jerking off as his imagination turns the kiss-that-wasn’t into the kiss-that-could-be and takes it farther.

Maybe he is only impersonating a human high school senior, but his hormones don’t seem to know the difference. His body also doesn’t seem to care about—how had Kyle so crudely put it? Tacos vs. hot dogs? Maybe some people just like both. Maybe it isn’t only dating that limits your options.

Maybe he wouldn’t mind his options limited if they were limited to Alex Manes.

* * *

Trying to figure out Isobel’s issues is distracting, but then Max is looking more adorably flustered than usual as he confesses, “Dude, we had a moment. One of those moments that…feels like it’s worth fighting for.”

_One of those moments that feels like it’s worth fighting for._

Michael hesitates for a second, then lets himself admit, “Yeah…I know those moments.”

Max smiles, and it’s the kind of smile that invites Michael in, makes him think that talking through things maybe isn’t so bad, and maybe, if he tells Max, Max can help him turn some maybes into certainties. He nods at Michael like he understands, but before Michael can come up with the words, _their_ moment is broken by Liz and Rosa arguing, which leads to Max seizing the moment to fight for, and leaves Michael sitting in the booth alone, staring out at the street and down toward the museum.

Maybe he needs to man up and see if he can create another moment, too, where he can clear this up for both of him and Alex. Because now that he’s wrapped his head around the fact that he _likes-likes_ Alex Manes, all he can think about is the look on Alex’s face when he pulled back, and he wants to wipe that disappointment away.

Because Alex is, by far, the kindest, most generous person Michael has ever met. He’s bullied by people who were his friends—Michael remembers watching him and Kyle wistfully; Max had Isobel, and, yeah, they were mostly a trio, but then they’d go home to the Evans’ and Michael would remember how much he really was alone. But to have your friend turn on you like that, for such a bigoted reason…He tries to imagine what Max would’ve said, if he’d ‘fessed up to his own moment. Hopefully not a lecture on not drawing attention to himself—and dating a guy in Roswell certainly would do that. Hopefully, Max would’ve—would? will?—supported him, not be like Kyle. The fact that Alex thinks Michael’s kinda lucky to be _homeless_ tells him how much things must suck in the Manes’ household. Michael knows that kind of sucking—it’s one of the reasons he prefers sleeping in his truck. And, yet, with all that, all the people he should be able to count on letting him down, or hurting him, Alex still offered Michael a place to sleep, gave him a guitar to use, listened to him, made him feel like, maybe, if he were with Alex, he wouldn’t need the music to calm the chaos, could just love it for itself. Michael can’t fathom that. Stepping between Kyle and Alex was the first time he’d ever stepped up for anyone except Max and Isobel, who, really, didn’t need him for much.

He thinks, maybe, Alex could need him; he thinks, maybe, he needs Alex.

He thinks he needs to stop thinking about this and do something, which, really, is more his style. He’s still practical, though, and finishes Max’s abandoned shake and fries, because food is food and not to be taken for granted.

* * *

Michael tries to quell his nerves, walking up to the museum ticket window. Maybe he shouldn’t have finished those fries and shake, after all. Alex doesn’t look particularly happy to see him, just looks at him when Michael says hi, and he can’t really blame him for that. But, at least, when he asks if they can talk, Alex doesn’t shut him down, and when he asks if they can do it privately, he lets him in to the museum.

Michael’s gonna take that as a good sign.

But, then, Alex won’t quite meet his eyes when he tells him to talk, looks like he’s braced for some kind of blow. Only when Michael doesn’t say anything does he look up, and Michael knows he’s on the precipice of something he can’t come back from. Talking shit out isn’t really his thing; Max is the only person in his life who’s ever really encouraged it.

He had the words, when he walked over. _I’m sorry about the other night. You took me by surprise—or, well, not so much you. I took me by surprise. Because I didn’t have a word for it, the thing I feel when I look at you. It’s almost palpable to me_ (that’s a Max word more than a him word, but he thought it sounded good when he was rehearsing the speech) _, and it twists up my gut until I just want to_ (make things go flying every which way, just to get it out, but he can’t say that, especially standing in this museum surrounded by what people imagine things like him are like) _…I don’t know. I’m not good at this_ (he acknowledged in his head that he’d probably have to admit that) _. I want you to be okay; I want you to be happy; I want to be the one to **make** you happy. I think I can. But I didn’t know…I like girls; when I felt that pull around them, I had a name for it. I like kissing them, so I figured that meant I only liked girls. But I look for you in the hallways more than I’ve ever looked for any girl. And I snagged your guitar because I hoped you’d come looking for it. And I wanted to knock Kyle’s teeth out when he came after you, then pull you back inside and dance with you and that kinda threw me. I hated Liz a little bit because she could go after you; I was **jealous** , and I’ve never been jealous of anyone for something like that before. But I still didn’t think, didn’t realize…and then you leaned in to kiss me, and it felt **right**_ **,** _and I got scared, because nothing, ever in my life, had felt so right, but that meant rethinking how I thought about myself, and I needed to do that before…I didn’t want to kiss you and then be like, “sorry, that’s not me.” But I know, now, it is me. And I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone as much as I want to kiss you._

But now they’re here and Alex is waiting for him to say something else, something about how he doesn’t want to be friends anymore, like all those other stupid guys who can’t see that Alex is the best person in the world, would be the best friend anyone could have, and Michael can’t find a single one of his not-so-carefully-crafted-but-totally-true words.

Fuck it, he decides. Actions speak louder, right?

So, he acts.

It’s more of a lunge than a graceful lean in, but he closes the distance and presses their lips together. He can feel Alex’s shock; his indrawn breath pulls at Michael’s lips, and Michael knows he’s the one taking Alex by surprise, now. The angle’s all wrong, and there’s no finesse to it, but for a moment, he just holds there, suspended before pulling back, checking in. Like, did all those words come through? Alex looks a bit bemused, and Michael feels himself smile, and this time when he leans in, Alex meets him halfway, his visor falling to the ground, his hands on Michael’s jaw, his neck, his waist.

Words don’t matter so much, after all, and, there, surrounded by the fake representations of how he came to this planet he’s never been all that fond of, this world that’s never done anything but hurt him, in the midst of all the speculation about where he and his kind came from, what they want, Michael leans into the moment and realizes he’s finally found home.


End file.
